


Babe, I'm Craving Your Touch

by WardenRoot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenRoot/pseuds/WardenRoot
Summary: On her day off, Dinah wakes up to a new picture message from Laurel
Relationships: Dinah Drake/Earth-2 Laurel Lance
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	Babe, I'm Craving Your Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sexy Dirty Love by Demi Lovato, which _someone_ sent me saying I could write smut to it, which is how this was created
> 
> This work is unbeta'd, hopefully there aren't too many mistakes 😅

Dinah pats for her phone with a sleepy hand, eyes still closed in face of the few rays of sunlight filtering through her blinds. When her fingers finally wrap around it, she reluctantly blinks her eyes open to check the time. That objective falls away when the screen lights up, showing a new picture message from Laurel. Curious as to what her girlfriend might have sent her, she slides the phone open. She’s pretty sure her brain stops processing any kind of information the moment her eyes fall on what exactly Laurel had sent.

She blinks again and pinches her arm to make sure she’s awake and not imagining things. But no, that is definitely her girlfriend in sheer black lingerie, looking almost bored as she displays her body for Dinah to see. Biting her lip, she rolls over on her back and types a message in response.

**_To Laurel:_ ** _ Good morning to you too. _

It takes a few seconds before the familiar dots of Laurel typing appear, followed by a message.

**_From Laurel:_ ** _ Look who decided to wake up. _

Dinah rolls her eyes. For once she has a day off, although she’s pretty sure the same isn’t true for Laurel. Though with that wake-up message…

**_To Laurel:_ ** _ You got off? _

It’s only after she’s sent it she notices she forgot two important words in the text.

**_From Laurel:_ ** _ No, I really was hoping to before work but  _ **_someone_ ** _ decided to sleep in. _

Dinah has to take a moment before shaking her head and responding.

**_To Laurel:_ ** _ Shame.  _

**_To Laurel:_ ** _ No time like the present ;p _

**_From Laurel:_ ** _ You do realize I’m at work in the middle of the day. _

**_From Laurel:_ ** _ New picture message! _

**_From Laurel:_ ** _ Though, by all means, feel free to enjoy yourself. _

Dinah chokes on air as she takes in the second picture, clearly taken only seconds apart from the other. In this one, Laurel’s legs are slightly parted with one of her hands wrapped around her thigh. Letting out a long, drawn-out breath, Dinah closes her eyes, the thought of where exactly that hand could have gone playing on her mind.

When she’s somewhat got her bearings again, she lets go of her phone with one of her hands, resting it on her chest. As she types out a message with the hand still holding her phone, she lazily squeezes her breast through the hoodie she slept in.

**_To Laurel:_ ** _ Since when has that ever stopped you? _

She can feel Laurel’s eye roll through the phone, but with the pictures burned into her mind, she can’t help but try to get her worked up. Besides, Laurel is usually the one instigating these kinds of things when Dinah is at work.

Laurel has the audacity to leave her on  _ read _ . With a huff, Dinah spreads her hand flat on her chest, and one of her fingers comes into contact with the zipper. Looking down at it, she suddenly realizes it’s  _ Laurel’s _ . She hadn’t noticed the night before when her primary objective was getting out of her work clothes and into bed. With this new information filed, an idea forms in her head. Slowly pulling the zipper down, Dinah takes a picture. The zipper isn’t even halfway down in it and only a sliver of skin is showing, but she sends it to Laurel as she opens it the rest of the way.

Laurel leaves her on read again, and Dinah doesn’t know if it’s because she’s trying to ignore her or because she hasn’t come up with a response yet. What she  _ does _ know is that Laurel is definitely seeing her messages. Pulling at the edges of the hoodie until the fabric is  _ barely _ hiding most of her breasts, Dinah sends another picture.

It takes about a second and then her phone rings. She accepts the call with a satisfied smile.

“You little brat,” Laurel states before Dinah can get out as much as a ‘hello’.

“I’m tal—”

“What was your plan, exactly?” Laurel’s voice grows sweeter, lowering a few octaves. “Send a few pictures of you wearing my hoodie—” So Laurel had recognized it “so I’d come running and fuck you? Wouldn’t that be a little counterproductive after all the lectures you’ve given me on properly doing my job?”

“I never said anything about you having to leave work.” Dinah pushes the left side of the hoodie fully away from her torso, leaving her free to play with her breast using light touches without a barrier.

Laurel scoffs. “Oh, I see. The captain of the SCPD just wanted me to talk her through fucking herself while I’m supposed to be working to put criminals away.” Dinah draws in a sharp breath, not expecting it to be laid out like that, and she feels an insistent need low in her belly.

“Something like that,” she breathes, pinching her nipple as she gently rubs her thighs together.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Just a little bit.” Dinah lets go of her breast and drags her hand down to her stomach, scratching underneath her breasts in the way Laurel is wont to do.

“And are you still wearing my hoodie?” Instead of answering, Dinah switches her phone over to speaker and lifts it up, snapping a picture of her current state. There’s a cough on the other end of the line and Dinah can’t help a smirk.

“Good. Keep it on.” An easy enough command to follow. 

Dinah deposits the phone on her chest, pulling her left hand back up to her breast and trailing her right hand even lower. “What are you wearing?” she asks, imagining Laurel hard at work at her desk. Or, at least she  _ was _ hard at work before Dinah texted her. 

A few seconds of silence follow and then Dinah’s phone vibrates between her breasts, forcing her to pick it back up. The sight that greets makes her forget how to breathe. Laurel is sitting with the back of her chair to the glass lining the office wall. She’s wearing one of her usual pantsuits, but it’s been opened enough to show the hint of sheer, black fabric on her chest.  _ She’s still wearing it _ .

“Did you like that?” Laurel asks, her tone letting Dinah know she already knows the answer. 

Dinah only lets out a low curse in response, unceremoniously dropping the phone back on her chest so her hands can get back to what they were doing. The heat coiling in her stomach grows, and she folds one of her legs as her hand travels all the way to the edge of her underwear. Pushing it underneath the fabric, she lets out a groan.

“I’m so wet,” she says into the phone, and she hears the responding intake of breath on the other side.

“Show me,” Laurel orders. Dinah whimpers as she pulls her hand back out, losing what little friction she had right after gaining it. Lifting her phone once again, she sends Laurel a picture of her glistening fingers. She’s pretty sure she hears Laurel swear under her breath on the other end.

“Be a good girl and show me without the underwear on and I’ll consider stopping by after work.” Dinah pauses. Surely Laurel wouldn’t wear  _ that _ to work only to deprive Dinah of seeing it in person? “D?” Laurel asks pointedly, the sound of a pen tapping against something hard traveling through the line.

“Give me a sec.” Her underwear is off in seconds and Dinah doesn’t have to look to know there’s a wet patch in the middle of it. Parting her legs as much as they will allow, she repositions her hand right where she needs it and snaps a quick picture.

“You look so ready, baby. Go on then, fuck yourself.” Laurel’s words draw an involuntary whine from her lips, and Dinah circles her clit a couple times before venturing lower and pressing into herself. Closing her eyes, she imagines Laurel there with her as she starts up a gentle rhythm.

“Come on, I want to hear you sing.” It’s more an order than a request, and Dinah hadn’t realized she’d been holding back until she hears it. Releasing the hold her teeth had decided to take on her lower lip, she lets Laurel hear how worked up she’s made her. “Just like that, pretty bird.”

Laurel offers low encouragements through the phone and Dinah’s left hand joins the other between her thighs, applying pressure to her clit as her fingers keep pumping in and out of her. It doesn’t take long then before Dinah clenches down on her fingers and her back arches off the bed, Laurel’s name leaving her lips in a drawn-out moan.

Before they hang up, Dinah makes Laurel promise to stop by and show off what she’s wearing after work. In return, Dinah promises to only wear her hoodie when she arrives.


End file.
